Battle of the Heart

Chapter 7

Author's Notes: I know this is not following the time-line, cannon -wise, but in order For my story to work I need to tweak it a little
bit. I am bringing Glorfindel Back to Middle Earth in the last few
centuries before the fall of Gil-Galad. And I am making the fall of
Gil-Galad happen right before the founding of Imladris by Elrond in
1697 of the Second Age. So…yeah…everything else will remain the same.


The morning brought with it the stirrings of life all over the Last
Homely House. Elrond and Erestor were at their desks as was their
routine after the morning meal. Their offices were light and airy
open spaces that were separated only by a small hallway. They both
had small terraces that over-looked Celebrian's private gardens on
one side and doors which opened to the darker library where most of
the scribes had their desks; though that space in itself was also
warm, inviting and open. The library was two-tiered, a vast wonder of
books, scrolls and tomes from all over Arda. It was the pride of both
Elrond and Erestor. Tables and chairs were placed in the middle of
the library and strewn about in its corners were comfortable cushioned chairs made for the sheer pleasure of reading.

Erestor was busy editing a history of Forlindon for Elrond. For not
only was he Elrond's chief advisor and right hand, he was a lover of
history and often did tasks such as the one before him, just for his
own enjoyment He just got to the beginning of a passage where upon
Lord Glorfindel of Gondolin came into the service of the High King
Gil-Galad, which sent him immediately into a distant memory….

Forlindon, Lindon, House of Gil-Galad, High King. 1495 SA.

Erestor's name was being called. Rising from his desk, he went to the
doorway and was gestured over by a smiling Gil-Galad, with Elrond
ever by his side. "My Lord? You called for me?" questioned Erestor.

"Yes, come, follow me, I was just sent word that Master Cirdan is
bringing someone with him who was sent to us from the shores of
Valinor, a reborn warrior of old." The High King smiled wide at the
look of astonishment on his advisor's face, for it was a look not oft
seen from him.

Elrond looked over and just shrugged at Erestor informally, for they
had become fast friends many centuries past. His look saying that
even Elrond was not told who this warrior was. Together the three
stood in the small courtyard along with a handful of house and stable
Elves, ready to assist the arriving party at a moment's notice.
Soon a small party of Elves on horseback could be seen arriving.
Three young warriors flanked two riders in the middle. Master Cirdan,
as always, was unmistakable by his countenance alone, and next to him
was a handsome, golden-haired…. "It can not be…" Said Erestor with
disbelief to his voice. Elrond and the High King turned to look at
Erestor and then back to the golden-haired warrior.

"Do you know him Erestor?" asked Elrond quietly.

"Yes." Came the whispered reply as he began to anxiously bite his
lower lip.

Glorfindel was nervous and in a tad of inner turmoil at having been
returned to first Valinor's shores and then again to Middle Earth. As
the party he was in rode closer to those waiting in greeting, his
keen eyes glimpsed the blue-black hair and he let out a gasp.

Master Cirdan looked over at the reborn warrior. "Lord Glorfindel is
anything amiss?"
"I believe I recognize someone," was the quiet reply, as Glorfindel's
hands began to slightly shake. He had not dared to dream that someone
he knew would still be alive and well.

As soon as they were in front of the waiting party, Glorfindel
dismounted easily and swiftly, a huge smile came to his handsome face
and lacking protocol, he walked straight towards Erestor. Erestor met
him halfway to the astonishment of all there. The two hugged and
laughed and cried. The tears they shed were both of happiness and of
great sorrow over all they had lost.

Erestor then turned and bowed to Master Cirdan, the Shipwright, and
to his King. "Forgive me, Master Cirdan, my King, Gil-Galad, and Lord
Elrond, may I present to you an old friend of mine, Lord Glorfindel
of the House of the Golden Flower of Gondolin." Erestor said with
much pride and happiness, along with a hint of sorrow to his voice….

Imladris, 1975 3A

"Erestor…Erestor…. AHEM!" Erestor's head snapped up as Elrond stood
before him, an eyebrow rose in amusement. "Lost in my words, I see?"
He grinned sheepishly.

Erestor just gave him a smirk and a questioning look; "I presume you
ahem-ed me for a reason my lord?" He teased.
"It is time for midday meal, " said Elrond, adding, "and since I did
not see you at morning meal, you will be going with me now,
understood?" Elrond had his hand on his hip and was looking down at
Erestor with authority.

Erestor just rolled his eyes, "Yes, I understand perfectly well, if I
want you off my back, I need to go, correct?"

"I knew there was a reason I made you my chief counselor," Elrond
teased back as they walked together towards the dining hall.

****
Glorfindel's days were filled with traveling towards their
destination of Fornost and all that entailed. The days were long and
hard, but his company of Elven warriors was strong and did not tire
easily. He was very proud of their conduct and prayed each day that
the loss of life would be at a minimum. He was not arrogant enough to
presume that no life would be spared, for it was war, and with that
act alone came the hazards of being a soldier. He never got used to
the sight of Elven lives cut down in their prime, or that of the
spill of elven blood and the stench of ruin and decay. He knew that if such sights did not stir one, than the time to being a soldier had
come to an end. He thought back to the Last alliance and of losing so
many there on those blood red fields, slick with the life force of
both kin and enemy alike. He remembered the wail from Elrond's lips
as he fell next to the body of their slain King, the sound of a heart
breaking, for not only was he herald to Gil-Galad, but his lover as
well.

He remembered the time after of he and Erestor caring for Elrond, and
willing him not to fade from the pain of losing his beloved. Elrond
lay for days staring upon the ceiling of the tent, neither eating,
sleeping nor drinking, just staring, until Erestor grew mad with
worry and slapped Elrond across the face. "Elrond, son of Eärendil
and Elwing, grandson of Tuor and Idril, all those in Gondolin did not
lose their lives to see you come to such an end!" Erestor hissed with
fury. "You need to get up and look upon the faces of your troops, of
their families, they need you to guide them, get up and fulfill your
destiny and do justice to your memory of Gil-Galad. He gave you Vilya
and all his riches for a reason Elrond, stop this madness and do
honor to his name!" With that Erestor had stormed out of Elrond's
tent as a stunned Glorfindel stared after him.

Following Erestor out, Glorfindel motioned to the Elves standing guard to alert he and Erestor if any change came to their lord.
Walking the short distance to Erestor's tent, he was about to walk in
when he heard the sound of muffled sobs. Deciding to let the Elf
grieve in his own way he went to his personal tent to try and get
some elusive sleep. They were all so very weary.

After tossing and turning for more than two hours, Glorfindel went to
the entrance of his tent and breathed in the night air. Glancing over
at Erestor's tent, he could see a light still on through the slit in
the flaps. He went back inside, threw a shirt over his sleep pants
and grabbing a bottle of miruvor, he knocked lightly on Erestor's
tent and called softly, "Erestor? Are you still awake?"

"Enter," came the sighed reply from within. Seeing the bottle in
Glorfindel's hands, Erestor rose from his small desk and from a
drawer took out two glasses. Glorfindel poured and they both downed
the first glass fully, welcoming the warmth of the strong Elven
spirit. "It seems sleep eludes us all," whispered Erestor. Glorfindel
just nodded. They were both so tired and drained emotionally, afraid
to dare think what would happen if Elrond did not recover.

"Well, I am going to go," Glorfindel stood to leave and Erestor stood
to see him to the entrance.
"Thank you for the drink," Erestor sighed. Glorfindel just nodded his
answer.

Suddenly they found themselves in an embrace, both just holding the
other for comfort. Neither moving. Time stood still. Then their lips
met in a frantic kiss, neither knew who started it, it just happened.
It was a blur of hands pulling off clothes, frenzied kisses, moans
and heavy sighs as Erestor found himself laying on his back on his
small bed, with Glorfindel sprawled on top of him. Their lips never
let go, it seemed as if they refused to break that contact, it was a
lifeline to feeling. They breathed heavily through their noses; only
breaking apart to take a deep breath and resuming their fevered
kisses once more. Glorfindel reached down and aligned their hardened
elfhoods together and using the closeness of their bodies as
friction, both rutted in a primal meeting of bodies, hips moving in
tandem without even thinking. It was animalistic in its intensity and
yet, if not for their constant kissing, if would seem as if it meant
nothing at all. Soon, Erestor stiffened, his hips bucking as his body
trembled in the spasm of such an intense orgasm, his release slicking
the way between their abdomens. Glorfindel felt the hot discharge
between them and followed with one of his own, matching Erestor's in intensity. Both were dripping with sweat and as their breathing
slowed, Glorfindel lay next to Erestor who suddenly sat up and began
to dress. He picked up Glorfindel's clothes and handed them to him in
an unspoken plea to leave. Glorfindel quietly dressed and moved to
the tent flap, but turned before he left, Erestor's head was bowed
and his lips red and swollen, he was a vision of such beauty that it
brought unshed tears to Glorfindel's eyes.

"Sleep well my friend," whispered the reborn warrior.

"Aye," came the whispered reply from the Elf who would not look up.


TBC…..